


a bit of breaking and entering for the holidays

by celaenos



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Canon Trans Character, Female Character of Color, Friendship, Gen, Holiday Fic Exchange, Holmestice 2014, Male Character of Color, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 21:18:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3090266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celaenos/pseuds/celaenos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfredo tags along to help Joan on one of her cases, and Joan multitasks with a bit of matchmaking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a bit of breaking and entering for the holidays

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PhoenixFalls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFalls/gifts).



Alfredo brings her coffee.

Joan smiles up at him gratefully as he passes the cup over to her and climbs into the passenger seat. “How's the stakeout going?” he asks.

“Uneventful,” she says with a sigh. 

Joan peels the lid off of her cup and sips her coffee eagerly; too quick, burning her tongue in the process. She ignores the sting of the burn and keeps her gaze on the apartment across the street. She has been sitting here for nearly four hours, turning the heat on and off in increments to keep herself warm from the bitter weather. Stakeouts aren't exactly Joan's idea of a good time. Stakeouts in the middle of winter tend to be even less fun—especially on her own. But Sherlock has been gone for nearly three months now, and he is a topic that Joan and Alfredo staunchly avoid discussing.

“What do you think this dude did again?” Alfredo asks, shifting to get more comfortable in his seat. They had had plans to meet for dinner until Joan realized that this was going to take longer than she had expected. Instead, Alfredo offered to bring the dinner to her. It was admittedly much less of an enjoyable way to spend an evening, but the company more than made up for it.

“I think he killed his girlfriend so she wouldn't tell his wife that he is a cheating creep.” Joan says, and opens the take out bag that Alfredo passes over to her. Chili. She smiles and cracks the cup open; digging out a plastic spoon from the bottom of the bag, and crumbles some saltine crackers in before taking a tentative bite. Her tongue doesn't need any more damage after the coffee. “The girlfriend, Karen, had no idea that he was married. She found out, broke up with him, and threatened to tell his wife. He killed her first.”

Alfredo shakes his head and shovels soup into his mouth. “Bastard," he mutters.

Joan looks over at him and grins. “You've got chili on your face,” she says.

“Cars aren't optimal for soup and crackers,” he says, defensive. Joan just passes him over a napkin with a light chuckle and cranks up the heat again.

…  
…

Joan pushes the water spout into the opposite side of the sink, then starts laughing once she catches sight of its contents. For some reason, Clyde is in the bottom of the empty sink; the water pouring down over his shell, and he appears to be shaking from side to side. Joan blinks. It looks like he is dancing. “Oh my god,” Joan laughs and calls out, “Ms Hudson! Come look at this quick!

“What?” Ms Hudson walks into the kitchen with her arms full of their take out lunch. Joan simply points—unable to properly describe it. Ms Hudson sets the bags down on the kitchen table and walks over to peer into the sink. She hesitates a moment, then starts to laugh. “It looks like he's—”

“—Dancing right?” Joan asks. “I'm not just seeing things. Can tortoises dance?”

“I've never seen it before,” Ms Hudson says with a shrug, and pulls out her cell phone. “But that is what it looks like,” she grins and starts filming it. After a second, Clyde stops moving around and Joan turns the water off. She lifts him up and carries him back over to his cage, toweling him off gently before setting him down with food and water. 

“Are you putting that up on  _Vine?_ ”she asks as she comes back over to the table and sees Ms Hudson's phone screen.

Ms Hudson shrugs again while Joan starts pulling out their food. “It's a dancing tortoise,” she says, as if that is explanation enough. Which, honestly, it _is_. They divide up the food and start eating. “So how is your case going?” Ms Hudson asks.

“It's not,” Joan says with a dejected sigh. “Alfredo and I watched his apartment forever last night. I'm going back tomorrow afternoon though. He offered to keep me company again. It's his day off."

Ms Hudson cracks a smirk. "How very gallant of him."

Joan smiles. "You know, he asked me for your number a little while ago," she says, a little teasingly. Ms Hudson's eyes bug out of her head and Joan's smile grows. "Want me to give it to him?" she asks.

"I—I don't..." Joan watches as she trails off and pops a bite of her fried rice into her mouth to stall. A small, shy smile slips onto her face and Joan leans back into her chair happily. Seeing Ms Hudson acting shy and unsure of herself is a little bit of a trip. It doesn't tend to happen that often. "I suppose," she says eventually, with a calm and controlled voice. Her gaze remains down on her fried rice.

Joan kicks out her foot and taps Ms Hudson's shin lightly underneath the table and grins at her. "Alright,” she says. “I'll give it to him tomorrow."

"Don't make a big deal out of it," Ms Hudson warns.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Joan says with a smirk, and pops the rest of her egg roll into her mouth with a flourish.

…

…

  
"So, if he comes out here... then we leg it right?" Alfredo asks while Joan bends down and picks the lock to Paul Franklin's apartment. Desperate times. Not to mention boredom.

"Most likely." Joan says, not really paying him much attention. The lock clicks and Joan rises, a victorious grin on her face.

“I could have done that,” Alfredo grumbles. “No need to show off.” The two of them slip inside. “Oh! Sugar cookies!” Alfredo says happily. He walks over to the kitchen counter and snags a cookie decorated as a Christmas tree, chomping on it and getting crumbs on the floor.

“Alfredo!” Joan chastises. “We're not supposed to let him know that we've been here.”

He leans over and shuffles the cookies around on the plate before taking another bite. “Now you can't even tell,” he protests. “Besides, I don't actually have a ton of practice committing B & E's,” he adds pointedly, and chomps another bite of his cookie.

Joan rolls her eyes and starts to look around for anything that can help her. Paul Franklin's apartment is sparse. His half-hearted attempt to decorate for the holidays includes a single store bought wreath hanging above a window, and the sugar cookies on the table. Joan shouldn't really be judging, considering her apartment isn't exactly decked out for the holidays either. But she has been busy. Once this case is over, she decides that she will call her mother and ask if she wants to bring over any decorations. 

Joan walks into Paul Franklin's bedroom and digs through his dresser while Alfredo searches the front room. Half an hour and a significant chunk of pictures on her cell phone later, she doesn't think that she has found anything that could useful for her case. She jolts as Alfredo calls out to her in a hushed, urgent whisper and quickly puts the folder she had been looking through back on the desk before running back into the front room. Alfredo is pointing out the window. “Dude's coming back,” he hisses in a panic. 

“Okay, come on,” she tugs him towards the door. “Relax,” she adds. “You'll look suspicious.” 

“You relax!” he whispers. “Who do you think they gonna arrest, the black dude or the asian lady?”

Joan smacks some crumbs off his shoulder with a glare and they rush out of the apartment. She yanks the door closed just as Paul Franklin walks up the stairs. Quickly, she prods Alfredo in the stomach, and he reaches out and wraps his arm around her shoulder. Joan slips her own arm around his waist and fakes a laugh as Paul Franklin passes by them. A small frown appears on his face as he sees their proximity to his apartment door, but Joan quickly starts talking about a present she thinks her brother would like. She prattles on about having trouble deciding between two different options as they walk down the hall, and Paul Franklin shakes his head and goes into his apartment, leaving them alone in the hall. 

“Move,” Joan says, and shoves Alfredo down the stairs in case they didn't put something back correctly. “You shouldn't have eaten that cookie.”

“ _Cookies_ ,” Alfredo admits with a guilty look. 

Joan levels him with a glare. “You know, Ms Hudson said I could give you her number, but I don't know if I want to anymore.”

Alfredo's eyes widen and his arm slips off of Joan's shoulders. “Hold up, don't be like that. It's Christmas. And I just pretended to be your boyfriend to save your ass.”

Joan makes a face at him, and he rightly shuts up as they walk down the street. 

“But... you are gonna give it to me right?” he asks. “Joan!” 

She turns and smirks at him before hailing a taxi. “We'll see.” 

“That's cold. Our fake relationship is definitely over.”

Joan slips into the back of the cab wearing a grin. 

“Get Oren the jacket!” Alfredo yells as the cab peels away from the curb. “And get me the number! Merry Christmas to all!” he jumps into the air and nearly slips in the snow.

…

…

A week later, Joan has solved her case. Paul Franklin will be rotting in jail for Christmas; perhaps there is a Santa Claus after all. Marcus congratulates her with a fist bump and a peppermint flavored coffee as she walks out of the precinct. Joan takes pity on Alfredo and finally texts him Ms Hudson's phone number, and goes home to meet her mother. 

She can already hear Bing Crosby and smell cookies as she slips through her front door. Oren dropped off a small tree for her the day before and it is set up in the corner, ready to be decorated. 

“Joan!” her mother calls out happily as she catches sight of her. “Do you have any cookie cutters?”

“Try the middle drawer,” Joan says and peals off her scarf and jacket. “Smells good.” 

Her mother lights up at the compliment and Joan walks over and places a kiss to her cheek before rolling up her sleeves to help. She rolls cookie dough into balls as her mother pulls out the first finished batch. 

“You solved your case?” Mary asks as they move into the living room to decorate the tree. The last batch of cookies is in the oven, and her mother's favorite holiday CD is set to repeat. 

“I did,” Joan says. She picks up one of the ornaments she made as a child. The macaroni has nearly fallen off completely. “Why do you still have this?” she asks with a laugh. 

Her mother smiles and takes it from her, stroking the wallet sized picture of a seven year old Joan. “Because you made it for me for Christmas,” she says fondly, and places it on the tree. It looks a little ridiculous, but Joan only smiles and pulls out some more ornaments. 

Her phone dings with a new message and Joan climbs up from her spot the floor to retrieve it. She chuckles to herself once she sees the message: S _he said yes! We're going on a date after the holidays!_

“What is it?” her mother asks from beside the tree. “Don't tell me you have another case.”

“No,” Joan says, and messages Alfredo back, ordering him to be a gentleman. “I'm all yours Mom.” She clicks her phone off and settles back down beside her mother. The smell of cookies wafts through her apartment, Bing Crosby croons on, and her mother talks excitedly about some book that Oren told her about. And finally, her new apartment feels like home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted [here](http://holmestice.livejournal.com/320211.html) for the 2014 Winter Holmestice Fic exchange.


End file.
